Sherlock Holmes and the new tenant of 221 bakers street
by rangerdanger985
Summary: sherlock holmes just got a new room mate a young artistic man by the name stephen rowen but maybe his age isnt the only thing thats not right as the one man he cant read sherlock wants to keep him close but after a case ends with him saving sherlocks life, putting his own in danger, he discovers a close friend and partner in the man.
1. full summary

Sherlock holmes had just received a new house mate, a young looking artistic man by the name of Stephan rowen.  
but perhaps more than just his age is not what it appears. as the one man he can not get a read on Sherlock wants to keep him close, but after a incident involving some of londons more unfavorable crowed ended with steve saving sherlocks life but also putting his own in danger sherlock discovers a close friend and partner in the man. but when bombs start to go off and a true enemy to both of them shows their face secrets will come to light and ulterior motives will be reveled. will sherlocks and steves friendship and partnership survive steves biggest secret? the one he keeps hidden at all cost? and better, will they survive themselves? read on and find out in the first part of 'you cant deduce my outcome' 


	2. Chapter 1

His body ached and his quick moving brain seemed to have slowed to a crawl, above him madam simza, otherwise known as sim was humming some ominous song.

To his left by the still open rail car door a gipsy he couldn't remember the name of was looking out mourning the loss of what he guessed was a close friend.

His eyes shifted slowly, it seemed like an eternity of time passed as he blinked slowly before looking at the final two occupants of the train, the first was doctor john Watson his closest colleague and a man who he would go so far as to call friend, who was currently rummaging through a sack, most likely in search of bandages for the wound the final occupant was currently stitching.

He took a moment to marvel at how his friend didn't even flinch as the needle punctured flesh drawing more blood before being pulled to close the wound that much further before his eyes moved to the owner of the steady and sure hands doing the work.

Stephen Rowen was a strange young man and the newest human occupant of 221B.

He couldn't have been that young though he appeared to be in his 20s, the skin on his face smooth and unblemished other than by a pair of dimples so deep it appeared as if a master craftsman had carved them into the ivory tone of his skin.

His eyes were a soft summer blue that seemed to change with his mood growing dark when he was happy and lightening when he was upset, he believed if he ever became truly angry his eyes would become silver, or possibly white.

He had never made the man angry enough to test the hypothesis.

It seemed as if he had the patents of a saint, he never complained about being woken from his sleep or kept up late into the evening.

And it seemed very few things rattled him.

Stephen's hair was a light brown, almost a unwashed blonde color and it constantly fell into his eyes in the front, the back he kept tucked under a hat or tied away from his face.

Having unusually long hair himself he never questioned the man about it and he never offered an answer.

It was one of the many stalemates between them.

Suddenly finding himself reminiscing he thought of how intellectual the man was, how sharp his whit could be, the way his off handed suggestions had not only made him focus on a particularly difficult problem but on occasion even solved it for him.

He also thought of the young man's cooking, not always did he partake in meals but he was always tempted, his beef goulash was delicious.

With eyes becoming heavy and vision blurring he looked over the man a sudden fear tightening his chest, he looked at every detail and committed it to memory, from the sweep of his lashes over his cheeks and the long strand of hair he was constantly pushing behind his left ear all the way down to the gentle nature of his hands and the soft lilt he put into his words as he spoke.

He wanted to remember everything about him, every detail, he felt as if he had to, like he was desperate to remember the man but for what he currently had no idea.

He was too tired to think his injuries taking their toll on him, he just couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.

Sherlock Holmes closed his eyes and without truly realizing it slipped silently toured that good night ahead of him.

The image of Stephen Rowen held tight in his mind.

-

It was a chilly October morning when a masked figure showed up to the door of 221 bakers street, an older woman answered the door both brows risen in question "Mrs. Hudson?" they questioned she nodded pulling her shawl tight around herself to stay warm.

"yes who are you?" the figure reached up with one gloved hand and pulled the scarf from around their face "my apologies ma'am, I contacted you earlier about the room you had for rent?"

The woman's face lit up with recognition "oh Mr. rowan, I am so sorry I should have realized sooner, come in come in, were letting the cold in"

With a nod he moved inside staying in the foyer as she closed the door "the room you would be renting is up on the second floor, follow me and I'll show you" the woman started to ascend the steps and he followed.

Once on the correct floor she opened the door to an average sized room with a single bed a dresser with a mirror and what looked to be a closet set into the wall.

"this would be your room, rent would be due the second week of each month" he had been nodding slowly as he looked around the room then he turned to look at her "yes about that, if you don't mind me saying so it seems rather cheap for a room of this caliber"

The woman nodded "there is one tenant already though he is a bit" she stopped and pursed her lips then sighed "it is best you find out yourself, though let me warn you, the reason no one else has rented this room since its last occupant moved out is most likely because of him"

He smiled as if to reassure the woman "don't worry Mrs. Hudson, it's difficult for bad habits to run me off" she snorted then looked surprised at herself for a moment "Well trust me Mr. Rowen, you've never seen habits like this before" he just turned toured the lone desk sliding a glove covered finger over its surface.

"well, either way, if you leave in the first week you won't be charged rent"

Silently she was making a mental bet that he wouldn't last three days.


	3. Chapter 2

When Stephen first met the other tenant it was after he had finished unpacking his luggage and walked into the small room on the first floor that acted as both a library and a study.

He picked up the first book he saw that appeared interesting it was a book about the headless horseman, not that old a book but it seemed well read.

Flipping it open he examined the pages until he came to the end of the chapter and found scribbles in what seemed to be notes tilting his head slightly he looked at the flourish of the writing and hummed "how peculiar" he muttered then herd the slight creak of the doors not quite well oiled hinges.

He didn't turn around or put down the book simply turned the page and waited a moment before he spoke "didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to sneak up on people"

Putting the book back on the shelf mental noting that he would come back to it later he turned to look at the rooms new occupant, a tall man, at least taller than him though that wasn't saying much since he was only 5'10, stood just a couple of feet from the door staring at Stephen with his hands on his hips.

His hair was black and messy and his eyes were brown, he had a days' worth of stubble on his face and his skin was tanned which was almost impossible to do someplace like London making it rather impressive.

"Are you going to stare at me all day or are you going to introduce yourself" the man sniffed once "I would say the same of you who has barged into my home uninvited" Stephen rose a brow fighting back a smirk and chuckle as he went into a rant about experiments and a nanny, he also believed the man said something about a goat.

The man went silent when he herd his chuckling "I'm the new tenant" he took a step forward and offered a hand "my names Stephen Rowen, most call me Steve"

Looking at his hand the man sniffed again before turning away "I would suspect you know who I am?" Steve dropped his hand with a small sigh "of course, you're the great Sherlock Holmes"

Steve folded his hands and turned to look at the man's back "I had my suspicions of that when Mrs. Hudson mentioned the goat, I heard about your work with lord black briar"

"and you've come to live here and bask in the glory of my genius"

"no the rent was cheap"

The man turned and frowned at him as he rose a brow "honestly I've seen your work and it's to" he rolled a hand as if trying to think of a word "ingenious?" he questioned Steve gave him a unimpressed look "self-destructive for my taste"

Sherlock blinked at him and he sighed hands on hips "Mrs. Hudson warned me about this, alright" he made a motion with his hand "impress me with the detective awareness I've read about"

He rose his brows before folding his hands behind his back and took a good look at Steve eyes flicking over him in several places before looking at his face "your more aware of your surroundings than the common rabble, a trait of a soldier but you have no problem with someone at your back so you're not a soldier, there's charcoal dust on your left hand and your shirt holds the faint whiff of oil paint"

Steve shrugged slightly "I'm an artist" Sherlock hummed "yes but there is more than that" he took a step forward and to the left "the third finger on your left hand is crooked at the second knuckle, it suggests a break but it's not recent, perhaps when you were a child, the location contradicts that notion meaning you were a young adult and most likely in a fight at the time"

He pointed at Steve's head "your hair is tucked under your hat, there's no substantial difference in its shape so either your hair is medium in length and your hiding it or your balding" Steve resisted a snort he most defiantly was not balding.

"but you are too young to be balding, you speak with a refined dialect so you must have been schooled recently, I would thus assume that you're a currently unemployed artist recently graduated from academy and looking for a place to stay possibly by the way you dress you come from a wealthy family but don't want it to show and the fact you overlooked the notion that I live at this residence is either a hideous oversight or you didn't bother to do your reading or you have a ulterior motive for being here"

When he stopped talking Steve's brow was risen and he was leaning against the heavy oak book case with his arms crossed, and his lips were twitching as if he was amused

"impressive. your right in your assumption that I am not a soldier, and I did break a finger on my hand when I was younger but I never went to academy and I do have a ulterior motive, I spent a large part of my young life not far from here, maybe I'm just sentimental"

The man stared at him face blank and blinked a few times "oh also" Steve reached up and pulled off his hat "I'm not balding, I was unpacking and it gets in the way" he pushed back his hair but a few stubborn strands still fell into his face.

Sherlock hummed again and turned away "if you are going to be living here you should be made aware of a few things" Steve crossed his arms "in this cohabitation you will not disturb my work and you are not allowed behind the curtain in my study, I shall leave you to whatever it is you do this will not become an example of the laws of celestial mechanics"

He looked over his shoulder "that's-" Steve cut him off "I know what it is, it dictates that when two objects collide there is always damage of a collateral nature" he couldn't help but smile at his surprised face "I didn't go to academy that doesn't mean I didn't find education else ware"

Turning he placed his hands at his sides and looked at the man "no I believe there are some things you should be informed of, I see no reason why I should be different from the man that rented the room before me, we live together we can at least be civil to each other and you can expect me to tell you if you're not"

He rose one hand and pointed at Sherlock "I won't interfere with your work but if I see something amiss I will bring it to your attention, the only thing I ask is when I require time on my own you will give it to me" the man hummed.

Then he held out his hand "if I must" Steve smiled again and took his hand in a shake "thank you" Sherlock released him and Steve turned taking the book from the shelf "perhaps I will soon test your knowledge with a game of chess"

Steve's smile grew larger "I await with open arms for that challenge Mr. Holmes I will be in my room if you need me" he turned toured the door "Sherlock" he said making Steve look back and his mouth twitched "Sherlock" he agreed and turned closing the door behind himself.

All in all he expected this to be a very interesting cohabitation at the least.

Steve stayed up to read the entire book then he pulled out a note pad and a pen and stayed up until just before sun rise.

When he settled into his bed the sky was just changing from the black of night into the dark blue with pre-morning light.


	4. Chapter 3

Steve's second day inhabiting the spare room at 221 baker street started far too early for someone who didn't go to sleep until the early hours of morning.

After 3 hours of sleep Mrs. Hudson entered the room at exactly 8 in the morning and threw open the heavy drapes letting watery London light into the room "my but you were busy last night"

Lifting heavy eyes Steve peered at the woman who was examining the notes on his desk.

"Mrs. Hudson?" he questioned pushing back his tangled hair from his face the older woman hummed in question and he pushed up onto his elbow "why are you in my room?"

The woman turned and placed her hands at her waist "Mr. Holmes requested your presence in his study" he sighed and slumped back "thank you Mrs. Hudson"

It was silent for a moment and then he rose his head again and rose a brow at the woman still standing there "I'll be down in just a minute" he said she seemed to realize she was lingering and quickly left silently he wondered what that was about as he dressed.

He ran a comb through his hair then tied it with a black ribbon before walking down to the room knocking once he waited a moment before entering "Sherlock?" he questioned looking around at the organized mess of the room and the thick heavy red curtain blocking off what must have been a smaller room.

Remembering what was said the day before he turned away from it looking around as he stepped into the room "Sherlock?" he asked again then caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

He turned to the left and placed his hands on his hips "you need to improve your sewing" a part of the wall moved and then Sherlock pulled off the hood of some type of jump suit "seven minutes" he said almost as if in praise

Steve crossed his arms "did you just want me to come so you could test your disguise?" he questioned "thereabouts, what gave away my position?" he questioned Steve barely resisted rolling his eyes "firstly you moved, secondly the color is wrong, the shading needs to be darker"

Sherlock hummed and turned away "was that all you wanted?" he questioned as the man ducked behind the red curtains Steve steeled himself against following.

"in a way, but what truly gave it away, nanny walked by without even a glance" Steve guessed nanny was Mrs. Hudson "not many people would notice" he reappeared from the curtains dressed like a human and pointed at Steve "but you did, you are far more observant than you appear"

Steve took that as a compliment "I am an artist, being observant is a requirement" tilting his head slightly he studied the man and noticed the way his hair was slightly messier than the day before "have you eaten yet today? Or slept?"

Sherlock waved a hand not turning his eyes from something spread out on a desk making Steve sigh "I'm going to the market later, will you need anything?"

The only answer he received was a short no and him disappearing behind the curtains again.

Steve left him to whatever laid behind and walked toured the kitchen area where Mrs. Hudson was toiling over a stove "so what did he want?" she asked Steve took a warm biscuit from the center of the table "that I have yet to discover" he took a bite of the warm bread and hummed his approval earning a smile from the woman.

"tell me Mrs. Hudson, do you know if Sherlock has eaten this morning?" she humped from her place before carrying over a pot of tea and pouring him a cup "that man never eats like a normal individual, I have stopped asking if he would like any a long time ago"

He hummed and drummed his fingers on the table "he does seem rather unique" Mrs. Hudson humped again "if by that you mean maniac and border line psychotic then I agree he is unique"

Steve turned his eyes to the woman "do you really have that strong an opinion of him? it causes me to wonder what your first opinion of me was" the older woman was silent for a moment and he shook his head "but that is neither here nor there, I'll be going to the market in a few minutes, tell me is there anything you would like me to purchase?"

She paused and looked up humming in thought "I don't believe so, perhaps a pound of flour" he smiled slightly and finished off the cup of tea before raising of course he took another biscuit before ducking out of the room.

Steve tucked his hair up beneath a hat and put on a dark brown coat, taking his back from its place by his bedrooms door he walked to the first floor and peeked into Sherlock's office, he could hear noise from behind the curtains so he placed his parcel onto a nearby desk in plain view before leaving the room and then the house, walking toured the market.

-

Sherlock was deep in thought about the new case lestrand had brought, a duchess killed with no clear next of kin.

What should have been a simple case for his ingenious mind was proving difficult, perhaps it was the complete lack of evidence or maybe it was the fact he was distracted by the new occupant of Watson's old room.

Stephen rowan was a rather peculiar fellow, with his soft spoken words and slightly above average intelligence.

It was almost as if having another Watson.

He shook his head and left the room behind the red curtains looking at the notes lestran had given him so he would stop thinking about his new housemate.

She had been found in the sitting room nothing had been stolen it was a targeted killing, but who would want her dead when it was blaringly obvious no one would profit from it?

So distracted was he that he didn't notice what he was eating until he nearly bit off a finger.

Closing the notes he looked down at the napkin with biscuits placed on top he wondered who placed them there, they were clearly nanny's, but nanny had stopped insisting he ate a long time ago, it was almost like she wanted him out of her hair but wasn't cruel enough to say it.

Silently he wondered if it was Stephen that did it.

Thinking that made a strange warm almost fuzzy feeling grow in his chest almost like fondness...

He didn't like it.

To distract himself from his growing 'feelings' toured the new tenant he decided to get a clear idea of what he was dealing with he had to go to the source.

Namely the duchess house so long as the blundering buffoons in the yard didn't muck it up it was sure to be a honey pot of information.


	5. Chapter 4

The market in the square was just as lively as ever people selling their wares and people buying.

The shop keepers children running around playing nameless games.

Steve could stay there for hours with pen and paper to try and capture the beauty he saw in it, but then again not everyone saw things the way he did, he could pick out the smallest details of beauty in even the largest of problems.

Perhaps that was from his childhood, he never really thought about it before.

He stopped to purchase a pound of flour like he promised Mrs. Hudson then continued to look at each vender he didn't have any use for anything so it was really just for fun.

He did buy a new set of charcoal pencils but he had been meaning to get those his were basically nubs, not good for detail work and his new inspiration was full of small details.

When he turned back for 221B it was into the afternoon so to avoid most pedestrians he took the back streets.

It was scary how he was more at home there than on the main roads.

Then again maybe it wasn't, the streets were like a second home even though he'd still yet to find a first.

Deep in thought he almost didn't see the movement from the corner of his eye, but he did and he was thankful he did as he turned and saw a familure sweep of dark brown hair.

He ran after the three grunts that were carrying a mostly cautious bound and now easily recognizable Sherlock to some undisclosed probably murderous location.

The first to notice Steve was the one on Sherlock's left, he was met with a cheap power house to the jaw, making him drop Sherlock, whenever goon 2 and 3 turned toured Steve good 2 dropped Sherlock completely which was his mistake because the man turned over and drove a foot into his groin.

That just left number three, reaching in his bag as he approached he pulled out the bag of flour and with a silent apology to Mrs. Hudson smacked him in the face with it making the bag explode on one end.

The cloud of white power was enough to distract the man long enough Steve could spin around and plant a well-aimed foot into the underside of the man's jaw.

Steve knew it wasn't enough to keep him down but it was more than enough to keep him and his friends distracted as he graved Sherlock hauling him to his feet and started pulling and running.

"good to see you old boy, but tell me, do you know where you're going?" Steve pressed his lips together "more than you do" he turned a sharp corner into what appeared to be a dead end with a wooden plank fence glancing back once he pushed aside two planks exactly 7 from the left and shoved Sherlock into what was on the other side.

Stepped through as well into an abandoned alleyway in some disrepair he lead Sherlock a little further then stepped into a partly demolished abandoned building.

Only once they were out of sight did Steve bend over and draw in a large gasping breath "I'd say, I think you need to exercise more often" straitening Steve looked at the man and frowned "I have the impression that the longer I live in the same residence as you Mr. Holmes, I will get more than the lions share"

Walking over Steve untied Sherlock's arms from the ropes that bound him up to his elbows.

Then he walked over to the gaping hole in the building watching for a moment "I think it's safe to leave" he said after a minute or two "just let me rest a moment longer" Sherlock said drawing him from his observations.

He turned back toured the man who was slumped back on a piece of wall that fell what seemed like life time's ago and he observed the man, he did look worst for the wear, the beginning of dark bruises appearing on his cheek and under his eye.

Before he could ask his question Sherlock beat him to it "how did you know this place was here?" he smiled sadly at the man brushing some dirt off a nearby rock and settled down himself "I told you I grew up close to baker street, in your observation of me when we first met you said I most likely had rich parents"

Steve leaned forward and steeple his fingers "you were correct but only partly, my mother who came to linden from Ireland, died of child birth, my father a few years later of a fever, I was sent to an orphanage than was overburdened where I remained for a year before I went to the streets"

Rubbing his hands together he looked toured a far corner seeing his younger self playing or drawing, saw himself take shelter under what little roof remained on the structure.

"until I was in my 18th year these streets were my home, I believe I know them even better than you" Sherlock snorted to himself "I doubt that"

Steve rose a brow at the man and smirked a dimple appearing in his cheek "oh really? Somehow you didn't know about this place" he made a hand gesture off to the left "or the ones on sprig street and elm"

Sherlock blinked at him "I am beginning to find you most annoying" he said calmly and now Steve smiled outright "you will get used to it"

When he turned away to once again look outside Sherlock made a face at his back before resting his head against the wall, he was getting to old for this.

"so tell me Sherlock" he finally broke the silence that had settled and looked at the man "why were those goons carting you away?" Sherlock shifted and pushed himself up from his seat "the world's most inept detective inquired about a recent murder and requested I solve the case"

Steve's brows rose in question but he stayed silent so the man might continue "the notes and descriptions were unsatisfactory so I arrived at the scene of the crime" he seemed to be building up to some great description but Steve crossed his arms "but you walked into someone trying to destroy evidence, so they decided to take out two birds with one well-placed stone?"

Sherlock turned his head frowning "or thereabouts" he said and turned away "well did you learn anything useful from putting yourself in that situation, alone"

"nothing that was made apparent before they appeared, if they did not return to finish destroying the evidence perhaps I shall go back"

Steve took off his hat and pushed back his hair scratching his crown then returned his eyes to the detective "I am starting to believe, Mr. Holmes, that you are self-destructive"

The man rose his brows at Steve who rose one of his own in challenge "how am I self-destructive? I'm to intelligent" Steve rose a hand fingers curled to prop up his cheek "tell that to your face, detective" he teased Holmes turned away lips pursed "a minor miscalculation"

Steve shook his head before placing his hat back in its place "one that very well could have ended with you dead, the odds of which were drastically raised by going alone"

The soon to be argument was interrupted by a wall of old rotten wood being broken down by for mentioned goons "found em!" he slurred making Steve relised he was the one that got a foot to the jaw, apparently he bit his tongue.

Of course now the goons that came in were more than the original three, now there were six.

Steve backed up slightly placing his left foot slightly in front of his right leather in his gloves creaking quietly "you take the left I take the right?"

"bloody good plan" Sherlock said sarcastically Steve's return quip was lost by the goons charging them.

Steve was never trained to fight, but he had been raised on the streets and that meant he knew how to fight dirty, and how to take down an opponent as fast as possible.

Of course his opponents had never been this big before but better late than never right?

The first man to mean him smelled like soured milk and his swing was clumsy a quick duck sidestep and blow to the kidneys knocked him out, thus was the price paid for extensive heavy drinking.

Turning to his last two opponents his artist eyes caught the glimmer of a knife being pulled by number two, number one didn't bother and simply charged with 2 close at his back.

Steve side stepped the lunge and ducked below the knife but the third man who apparently wasn't as heavy a drinker as Steve had hoped swung forward and graved him around the middle pinning his arms to his sides.

Letting out a cry he struggled kicking his feet as he was lifted off the ground.

Then when he was lowered just a little he used it to his advantage using the slight momentum from the move he managed to get soured milk to almost put him down by disrupting his center of gravity.

He was just low enough to slam the heel of his shoe into his shin, it didn't do much other than make him stumble and loosen his arms but that was what he wanted, he yanked out his left arm and dropped a little ramming his elbow into the man's already abused kidney.

That made the man loose his breath and stumble but Steve didn't relent to many street instincts taking over he jammed his first two knuckles into the back of soured milks hand making his cry out and stumble again then Steve graved the corresponding fingers and yanked as he pivoted and drove his foot into his throat collapsing his wind pipe.

He herd gravel being disturbed behind him and dropped into a crouch without thinking avoiding the knife aimed at his back the sloppy move left his middle exposed and Steve shoved his shoulder up into his belly.

Number two went down coughing from the air being knocked out of him and curled up holding his ribs, Steve might have broken one with that attack.

He didn't have time to grave the knife because number one tackled him to the ground sitting on his hips and started to try and punch him, he raised his arms to guard his face but he was becoming tired he wasn't as young as he used to be.

The attacker shoved away Steve's arms then two large meaty hands wrapped around his throat he graved at the man's wrists pulling and clawing as his skin but to no avail.

His hands tightened around his throat cutting off his air and Steve gasped mouth open his face was beginning to tingle he threw out his left hand reaching for something and then felt cold metal.

He cut his fingers as he grasped at the metal making his grip slick but strong enough for what he needed.

The man's hands squeezed once tight before going slack.

Steve shoved the man off gasping and coughing raggedly yanking the knife out of his chest hearing it scrape his breast bone he turned over and saw Sherlock down his second opponent with efficient and sharp movements.

He didn't see the third "Sherlock!" he shouted as the man graved him and swung him around, he herd something hit the wall and saw the man pull out a gun.

Without thinking he threw the knife and watched in slow motion as it turned end over end and then sunk into the back of the man's throat.

He fell over the side of the wall.

Pushing himself up and forward Steve ran to where Sherlock was half on the ground half against the wall "Holmes? Holmes, Sherlock?" Steve touched his face and then his throat feeling the steady trump of his pulse.

A line of red dripped down his face from his now matted dark hair.

"quite a throw old boy" Steve let out a breath of relief when he saw Sherlock squint at him "good lord" Steve complained slumping back into the dirt on the floor "do all your new house mates have to do this?"

The man's lips quirked and he groaned slightly as he pushed himself into a sitting position against the wall "you shall become use to it Mr. rowan"

Steve rubbed his throat "I doubt that Mr. Holmes" then he pushed himself to his feet with a grunt "we should probably head back to baker street before we run into any more trouble"

Sherlock nodded "yes of course, just, let me rest here a moment" Steve was about to make a joke about his age when a scuffling noise from behind him made them both freeze up.

Turning around slowly Steve scanned the area but other than the softly groaning uncontiose bodies and the dead ones nothing seemed to move.

Until a white sheet in the corner twitched.

Furrowing his brow as to what it might be Steve approached slowly and peeked behind the curtain.

What he saw broke his heart.

In what looked like a den made of scrap papers and cloths a dog was curled up head lulled to the side, from the shrinking of the skin it had been dead a couple of days.

The ribs were showing but the dog had clear signs of pregnancy.

Pushing the sheet away further he found what he feared, three puppy's either still born or killed shortly after birth laid with their mother.

But what had made it the cloth move? A part of the curtain still not touched let out a small pitiful whine and he reached out, slowly and gently pulling it away.

What greeted him beneath was somehow even more heart breaking than the dead mother and puppy's, in a small space it had burrowed out another puppy laid on its side obviously waiting to die.

"what have you found?" Sherlock questioned obviously anxious, apparently Steve had made a sound while looking at the pitiful creature.

Reaching down with a not so bloody hand he picked up the puppy with its obvious ribs and lifted it into the curve of his arm, it let out a pitiful whine before laying its head on his sleeve settling into the warmth.

Standing slowly and turning he tried not to disturb the dog "I should have suspected" Steve glanced up at Sherlock who had his head leaned against the wall, turned slightly and looking at Steve from the corner of his eye.

Then his eyes closed and he fell silent "Sherlock?" he nudged the man's shoulder a couple of times and then he sighed when he didn't rouse "damn it Holmes" he murmured but it was strangely fond.

Laying the puppy in Sherlock's lap for a moment he removed his bag and layered the inside with a jacket off the less bloody of the goons.

When he looked back Sherlock's arm had moved creating a kind of wall for the puppy so it wouldn't slide off, he couldn't hold in his smile as he picked the puppy up and placed it into the nest he created with the coat and then draped it over his shoulder making sure it wouldn't slip off.

Then he looked at Sherlock still out cold and sighed, if he knew this was part of living with the man he would have kept looking.

-

By the time Steve arrived at 221 baker street the sun was well on its way down making the overcast sky glow orange in places.

He was carrying Sherlock over his shoulder and had long stopped noticing the ache in his muscles, Mrs. Hudson opened the door possibly expecting to yell at them, she didn't expect him to be carrying her original tenant like a rag doll.

"good lord what happened?" he stepped inside and walked toured Sherlock's bedroom "I would guess nothing out of the ordinary for his work day"

Walking through the door Mrs. Hudson opened he shifted and set the man down on his bed "should I call a doctor?" she asked Steve shook his head "no I just need a bowl of warm water and a rag, and can you answer a question for me Mrs. Hudson?"

The woman raised her chin slightly in curiosity "do you know if we have any baby bottles?"


	6. Chapter 5

When Sherlock opened his eyes it was slowly with a pain in his skull just above his left ear.

At first he didn't understand until his brain started working again and he relised he was laying someplace most likely his own bed, and the room was partly dark and only filled with warm light from the hearth that provided heat.

He didn't dare guess what time it was.

Closing his eyes again he heard someone speaking softly, obviously not to him but he didn't know to whom or even who it was speaking for a moment.

He heard a clinking sound of glass tapping ceramic then his bed shifted and something warm was placed on his head.

It felt surprising marvelous.

"Sherlock? I heard your breathing change I know you've come back"

With a soft sound of disappointment that he couldn't contain he did open his eyes again almost expecting to see Watson tending to whatever injury he had obtained this time.

Instead he found the new tenant Stephen Rowen.

He didn't know if he was disappointed or not.

Groaning softly from aching muscles he moved as if to raise from his bed, but a strong yet smooth hand on his shoulder stopped him along with a sound of warning "just stay down for a moment, if you black out from raising to fast I won't be able to catch you" Sherlock's lips pursed into a frown "you underestimate my endurance"

Steve rolled his eyes drawing away his hand and making Sherlock notice the bandage around it "or maybe I overestimated you and underestimated myself, after all you weren't the one carrying me to my bed"

Sherlock frowned but didn't take the obvious bait instead he was cataloging Steve's overall appearance.

He had changed from his street clothing into pair of dark trousers and a white shirt loose around his slight frame, dark bruises were starting to form on his throat up the left side of his jaw.

His hair had been swept back from his face accept for the few strands that always fell over his forehead and had been tied with blue ribbon.

Sherlock's overall assessment of his condition was that other than some bruising and the obvious wounds on his hand he was fine and would recover in a matter of days.

Satisfied with that he turned his eyes to examine his room, nothing was noticeably out of place other than the ceramic bowl placed on the small stand beside his bed, the water was faintly steaming and a cloth was hanging over the side.

He identified that as the source of the warm feeling still on his face but he saw something strange in its center

"what is that?" following his line of sight Steve looked at the bowl "I believe people have started calling that object a baby bottle" he said Sherlock looked back at him "why is it there?" Steve rolled his eyes and finally Sherlock noticed something.

Steve was sitting with a separate blanket over his lap it was small, perhaps more a afghan than a blanket and he kept one hand around whatever was causing the bulge in its shape.

He was almost uncomfortable until the bulge moved and a paw was stretched out slightly a tiny sound coming from the bundle "he's only a few days old" Steve stroked the mass that had half felt its way out of the blanket.

It was small and its fur was a pore impersonation of gold, only as large as both his hands cupped together, its bones were almost completely visible, from a distance he could count its ribs.

The eyes were closed and Sherlock's mind though retaining little information retaining toured puppy's delivered sad news to him that the chances of its survival were very slim.

Hopelessly so.

"his eyes haven't even opened yet and I get the impression, not to make light a bad situation, but if we had not stumbled across him he would have suffered the same fate as the others"

"he still might" Steve looked at him with almost sad eyes and Sherlock wished he had kept his mouth shut "I know, the chances of him living through the night are very slim, I am intelligent remember?"

Looking down at the bundle Steve's sad expression turned soft "but there is still a chance" he moved his hand stroking a soft ear with his thumb "if I gave up every time the chances were slim, I wouldn't be what I am today, I am not someone who gives up easily"

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment "I am beginning to believe that, it is the most aggravating of traits" Steve smirked at the man "someday I will remind you of this conversation"

The man snorted "and I shall remind you of the winner of this argument"

That rose a laugh out of Steve "believe you me Sherlock, this is not an argument, there will be no winner or loser" he turned a large smile toured the man "this is just me saying I don't give up on things which others conclude to be hopeless, there is always hope"

Sherlock snorted again but remained otherwise silent, thoughts obscured by his current case he wondered who would want to kill a recently widowed duchess who had no other family and not bother to take any valuables to make it appear to be a robbery?

He heard a whimpering sound and felt his bed shift, peeking with one eye he saw Steve pulling the puppy up closer against his chest settling it more comfortably and then held out the bottle.

The puppy sniffed then latched onto the nib making tiny little grunting noises as it drank.

Sherlock was momentarily distracted by the way Steve's fingers were long enough to both hold the bottle slightly angled but also support the weak puppy's head with his fingertips so it didn't tire itself while trying to build its strength.

The fact that the puppy was eating was a good sign and Sherlock silently rose its chances but not by much.

Then it hit him.

"of course" he said and moved standing from bed "careful" Steve chastised him but didn't repeat his warning of being unable to catch him if he blacked out.

Other than a moment of unsteadiness he felt no worse than usual.

"how did I not see this before, or better how did even the world's most inept detective not even notice"

His brain was still slightly sluggish but he was beginning to put the pieces together steadily faster now that he was standing and looking over the notes from the yard "Sherlock would you be so kind as to inform me of what you are going on about?"

Turning he looked as Steve, he was still holding up the puppy but he had one leg crossed under the other and bundle of blankets stuffed into the space inside it was obviously where he had been keeping the puppy, just as obvious was the fact he had not moved since he had returned them to the building.

If he tried to move to suddenly he would be in quite a bit of pain.

"A murder of a duchess" he muttered turning the page and digging out a piece of paper with scribbles on it Steve made a sound of enlightenment "ah yes, the one who's home you went to investigate and stumbled upon some brutes trying to destroy evidence"

Sherlock gave a half nod "why would she be murdered, and so obviously no less, nothing was taken" Steve shifted his head "other than her life" another nod "I was unable to put it all together until now, perhaps it was money that caused her death, though not from an inheritance, she had no family, her recently deceased husband had no family, but he did own a fairly large factory"

Turning Sherlock returned to his bed with the file and notes and held up an article on the recently deceased man "Andrew Edmond, recently deceased by cause of asphyxiation caused by injury's obtained in a riding accident" Steve hummed quickly reading then paused and looked closer "dose that say he owned"

Sherlock cut him off "a steel factory that makes metal notaries for its use in weapons, it was a business his father owned, recently it was merged with another steel plantation in Brittan, resulting a growth in production and income"

"when he died they would not let a supplier of steel as large as his shut down, they would have promoted someone, clearly not the wife, a business partner perhaps?"  
Nodding he dug through his notes and pulled out another newspaper clipping "Damion green to be exact"

"The second in command would be promoted if Mr. Edmond didn't have a son" Sherlock nodded "and he is the only one to profit from Mrs. Edmond's death" Steve furrowed his brow and then they rose almost meeting the short dark blonde strands on his forehead.

"she was pregnant" Sherlock held up another report this time looking over it himself "it would explain the extensive injury to the abdominal area, rather than waiting to see and it becoming obvious if she happened to have a boy he had her and the child killed. I have my suspicions that Mr. Edmond's death was also not an accident but one case at a time"  
Sherlock noticed the way his lips twitched but ignored it instead looking at his notes again.

Then finally he looked up "I must send word to lestrand" Steve held out a calming hand, he hadn't noticed the man tuck the puppy back into its blanket nest between his legs "it is nearly 10 o'clock, the detective will not be awake, let the murderer enjoy his last few hours of freedom, I suspect he shall never see it again"

Sherlock twisted his lips slightly but he had to admit the man was correct and lestrand was remarkably unhelpful when just woken up, he knew he would have to wait until morning but that rose another problem.

He doubted Steve would be able to move without disturbing the puppy and the man was still situated at the end of his bed, the way he was looking down at his lap he was clearly thinking of the best way to move without disturbing his charge.

Deciding it wasn't his problem he closed the files and dropped them on the floor before settling back into his place in bed he stubbornly closed his eyes against the light "give me a moment and I will leave you to rest" he heard Steve speak.

He simply humphed at the man "stay if you must" he muttered and knew the man looked at him possibly strangely.

Tuning it out he went about the task of shutting down his brain to sleep, it was a long and grueling proses and he had to begin again at least twice every night.

He was surprised how this time it was almost simple to accomplish.

Sometime later after the light had disappeared, he felt something on his bed move and then get off, through the fog of sleep he heard a soft whine and hushed softly spoken words.

He thought he felt his hair being pushed back and words in a language he didn't know spoken softly close to his ear.

Then everything was silent and he slipped fully into sleep.

-

When Steve woke up blinking sunlight from his eyes he discovered something small and warm curled against his chest under his chin.

Blinking heavily he shifted to move and found his entire body ached in a way that could only involve someone trying to beat his to death and then choke him.

He wished he could say it was a new feeling but he did grow up on the street from the age of five.

Pushing passed the pain he shifted away stiffly and looked at the bundle of fur, at first it wasn't moving and he feared the worst but then its head moved and it yawned widely small pink tongue poking out.

Steve couldn't hold in his laugh of happiness and picked up the puppy with gentle hands holding it to his chest "good boy, good boy" he stroked the length of its small body and couldn't pull the smile from his face, the puppy might not be out of the woods yet, but Steve could tell, light was shining through the trees.


	7. Chapter 6

Steve's third day in the same residence started with some of the best news he could hope for.

A veterinarian Mrs. Hudson had sent for examined the puppy, told Steve that by all means it should be dead and that it was lucky he had stumbled upon it.

He said it would survive and recommended a special mixture of milk for the puppy to replenish what it would have received from its mother, he also said to call on him if anything was wrong but he had a distinct feeling everything with the puppy would be just fine.

Most of what the puppy did after the early visit was sleep, Mrs. Hudson suggested a kind of sash some women used when carrying their baby's for the first few days, he said that for now he would simply prefer carrying the puppy's slight weight and small form in the crook of his arm, she didn't argue.

For some reason she seemed slightly dishearten when he saw her that morning but she had shaken herself and went about making breakfast.

He ate and fed the puppy then he took a plate in his left hand and carried it toured Sherlock's study.

The man was sitting at a small table rotating a pawn between the fingers of his left hand "good morning" he greeted the man that just hummed and Steve set down the plate close to him before settling in the open chair.

"this morning I informed lestrand of my discovery, he confirmed that she had been pregnant and they arrested Mr. green just an hour ago, he admitted to the murders as well as some things we weren't privy to, and a unnamed stockholder was named head of the company"

Steve hummed "sounds like a busy morning" Sherlock looked at him then glanced at his arm where the puppy still slept "I see your lost cause is recovering" Steve looked down and smiled "yes, the veterinarian Mrs. Hudson sent for said it was a miracle he had survived so long, a larger one being the fact he will completely recover"

Sherlock hummed again to himself and then he put down the piece he had been playing with "Care for a game?" he questioned motioning toured the chess set between Steve rose a brow then smiled a little "well now that depends detective Holmes"

At his raised brow Steve made a motion toured the nearby desk "Are you going to eat?"

-

Steve first met Watson several days later when he came to visit Sherlock.

The man limping slightly walked into 221B and could hear muffled voices obviously arguing.

He followed the sound Gladstone running off more than likely to nearly die again with whatever toxic plant Holmes had sitting out this time.

He found the voices coming from the sitting room on the second floor "for the last time you are not experimenting on my dog Holmes" a unfamiliar voice spoke "your dog? I thought he was our dog, I mean, we did find him together"

Watson heard a sigh "no I found him while you were uncontiose, and if memory serves Sherlock, I do believe I also had to carry you back here"

There was a grumble "we wouldn't have found him if not for me" looking into the room he found Sherlock sitting on the couch while someone with dark blonde hair sat on the floor.

"only because you nearly got us both killed!" Watson wasn't sure if he should interrupt or not but that choice was taken away from him when Gladstone suddenly plowed passed him into the room making a barking sound

The blonde bent forward and graved something before leaning backwards almost falling over, Sherlock turned his head "Watson! Good to see you old boy" he greeted.

Watson nodded "hello Holmes who is this?" he approached slowly to see the small blonde man trying to both keep Gladstone at a distance and a small blonde shape from wiggling out of his hands.

Finally taking pity Sherlock bent forward and took the bulldog pulling him away allowing the blonde to settle the small mass that Watson now relised was a puppy, into a more easily controlled position allowing him to look up.

"your doctor Watson?" he asked his voice was gentle and firm and held a nearly unrecognizable accent just under the surface.

Watson wasn't sure if he should answer the question or not but the man had already risen and started to approach him wiggling puppy held in one hand half tucked under his arm "I have heard quite a bit about you, my name is Stephen Rowen, I recently took up residence in your old room"

He made a sound of realization and shook the man's hand "ah, how has it been treating you so far?" the smaller man glanced back "so far surprisingly well, if he would stop asking to experiment on my dog it would be most excellent"

Watson laughed "he had killed my dog three times, it is best simply to keep it away from him"

Sherlock turned "I have always brought him back, and I do not intend to experiment on him Steve, just test a type of sedative" the man Steve rolled his eyes "how is that not experimentation Holmes?"

Sherlock shook his head "Stephen here has taken up the duties you left behind with your engagement, how is Mary?"

"she's well, how human of you to ask"

Steve smirked but fought it down and looked at Sherlock "if by duties he means try to keep him from getting killed with his self-destructive nature then indeed I have taken off right where you left off doctor Watson"

"I am sitting right here"

Steps approached from the hall "ah it's good to see you doctor" Watson turned his head and looked at Mrs. Hudson "good morning ma'am" he greeted and Sherlock turned "nanny tell them I am sitting right here and don't talk like I'm not in the room"

The older woman rolled her eyes "I am sure they more than realize Holmes" she said handing over what looked like a bottle to Steve.

Sherlock made a face and then released Gladstone that waddled over and into Steve's legs "Sherlock" the man complained dancing around the bulldog that had taken great interest in him as he tried to feed the puppy.

Watson turned his head toured Mrs. Hudson and motioned toured the hall way "who is he?" he questioned lowly once they were out of ear shot "a young artist, a day after he settled in he came back holding that puppy in one hand with Mr. Holmes over his shoulder, apparently he tried to take on a case alone and it disagreed with him"

His mustache twitched as he smirked "even when he isn't alone most cases do not agree with Holmes" Mrs. Hudson angled her head and there was a shout from the sitting room making both of them look inside Sherlock and Steve were arguing again as Steve continued to dance away from Gladstone that seemed to think it was some kind of game.

Watson blinked "he won't last three days"

Mrs. Hudson smirked "he's been here nearly two weeks" Watson looked at her with wide eyes mouth slightly gapped.

The old woman's face became fond and she looked at the bickering "it reminds me of the both of you when you moved in, they have started working on cases together and there hasn't been any recent gunfire in the house, it seems that Mr. Rowen is a good influence on him"

Watson smiled slowly "perhaps he is Mrs. Hudson. Perhaps he is"

Something crashed in the sitting room and they bother looked to see Steve now on the floor being attacked by Gladstone's slobber while holding the puppy put of the way "damn it Holmes" Sherlock was snickering at the man "that is" Watson started.

"if he doesn't end up killing him"


End file.
